


Separating salt from water

by SecondStarOnTheLeft



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Mild Sexual Content, Pre-Canon, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-16
Updated: 2017-10-16
Packaged: 2019-01-18 09:55:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12385827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SecondStarOnTheLeft/pseuds/SecondStarOnTheLeft
Summary: Rohanne Webber, formerly five other women, decides that it is high time to meet her longest-standing suitor.Gerold the Golden, when he finally ventures forth from the Rock, is not the man she expected.





	Separating salt from water

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tywinning](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tywinning/gifts).



> Happy (belated) birthday, my love!
> 
> (if you like this I will write a continuation for your Christmas present <3)

He is exceedingly tall, she thinks, and wonders if it is that height that makes him seem attractive.

"Lady Webber," Gerold Lannister says, handsome face impassive, expressionless. She admires that control and reserve, has learned it for herself over the years, and holds back her charming smile - something tells her he would not appreciate it. "Thank you for accepting me into your home."

She curtsies, polite and without apparent ulterior motive, and is pleased when he bows deeply at the waist in return. It is rare for any man to show her the respect she is due, and surprising in a man of such wealth and power as the Lord of Casterly Rock. 

"Lord Lannister," she returns, offering him her hand, remaining as calm and impassive as she can manage when he takes it, and is  _ warm.  _ Something about his cool manner had given her to believe that warmth was beyond his capabilities, but here she is, barely not blushing simply for the touch of his fingers.

 

* * *

 

"Your letters have been most complimentary, my lord," she says, lifting her cup in receipt of his toast. "Even while I was married, they remained... Unchanged."

Gerold the Golden smiles, just a little, and Rohanne thinks  _ no, it is not just his height.  _

"You are an unusually stubborn woman, my lady," he says in return. "I felt it only just that I repay such tenacity with some little recalcitrance."

"How flattering," she says, mild as milk. "I've never been called mule-headed as a compliment before, my lord. Shall you remind me of my diminutive height next, to charm me?"

That little smile returns, lifting one side of his thin mouth and making his hard, handsome face almost soft for just a moment. She wonders, will he kiss her as any of her previous husbands did? Uncertain, or  _ too  _ certain, or wet like Simon, or clumsy like Roland?

It will not be sure and a little nervous, as poor Eustace, and it certainly will not be hungry and fierce like Ser Duncan, the only man she has ever seen who is taller than Lord Gerold.

She wonders, very briefly, if he would have been kind to the baby daughter she and Roland put in the ground. She wonders, very briefly, if she ought to believe the crueler rumours about his niece, the girl who would have been Lady of the Rock.

Would he have been charmed by  _ her  _ stubbornness? Would he have found  _ her  _ tenacity admirable?

  
  


* * *

 

 

"How do you find Coldmoat, my lord?"

The speculative pause Gerold Lannister takes is more honest than any compliments he might have spouted. What could the Lord of Casterly Rock truly find admirable in her humble holdings?

"Your people seem very loyal, my lady," he says. "That is something to be greatly respected."

"You do not find my crenelations endearing, my lord? My gates piquant?"

"Even if I did, you would find insult in my saying so, I suspect."

She laughs at that without meaning to, startled into mirth by his unexpected honesty, by the cut of his words. Few men are so sharp with her, not without malice, and she's delighted by his  _ apparently  _ seeing in her not an adversary, but an equal.

"You suspect right, my lord," she admits, once her laughter has stopped. He is halfway smiling again, his impenetrable green eyes slightly less severe than they seemed before, and she tucks her hand into his elbow without giving herself a moment to doubt. 

He startles. Jumps just a little, eyebrows shooting skyward, and then he smiles the rest of the way, and rest his hand over hers on his arm.

"Perhaps you ought to visit the Rock, Lady Webber," he says, and she wonders why it is that he never, ever calls her Lady Osgrey, not even in his letters, "so that we might compare... Crenelations."

 

* * *

  
  


"Gods preserve us," Rohanne huffs, "you're so fucking  _ tall." _

Gerold laughs, golden and vicious, and kisses her again. He's tall, yes, but she finds that he's also lean, all compact muscle and narrow hips when she wraps her legs tight around his waist. His hands are huge under her thighs, fingers digging in sharp when she sucks on his tongue.

"It's not my fault the gods saw fit to halt your growth as an infant," he says, razored and teasing and delightful, because yes, he will  _ challenge  _ her, and no one has ever really challenged her since another too-tall swordsman.

Not that she has seen Gerold wield steel. Not yet. This is a  _ much _ more interesting display.

"Bastard," she hisses, hand fitting up under his doublet and shirt so she can rake her nails across his hard belly. 

"Witch," he snarls in return, and kisses her again.

Over on the table, the ink is still wet on the contract. Over on the table, their seals sit side-by-side, waiting for them to stamp and finalise their betrothal.

Here, against the wall, Rohanne can feel herself slick under her smallclothes, can feel Gerold hard through his breeches, and wants very much to know what it is to fuck a man handsome enough to make her blush.

Hopefully, in this as in all else, Gerold Lannister will exceed her expectations.


End file.
